Immortals After
by Qi Okami
Summary: The immortals are thrown headlong into a chaotic, godless era of their own doing. Meanwhile, Mirar finds himself competing against an unexpected rival for Auraya's affections, and he doesn't know who Auraya loves most.
1. The Die is Cast

_**Chapter One: The Die is Cast**_

Author's Note: My first story on Age of the Five! I noticed not many people write about this, but I truly love Canavan's work. She is an absolute genius, and I read the Black Magician Trilogy as well. I hope this story will chug along just fine: my current fanfic, the Hand of Friendship, will take senior priority over Immortals After, but I'll try to update both as soon as possible. Watch out for it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to the talented Trudi Canavan.

* * *

><p>Danjin Spear shuddered as he stepped out of the cage and glanced at the ground far below. He would not like to imagine falling down and down and down…smashing his bones into pieces on the hard floor. Would anyone care to tidy up his remains? But that was a silly question. The White would not allow such things to tarnish their Temple.<p>

Shaking himself, Danjin approached Ellareen of the White's door, but before he could raise a hand to knock, Ella's familiar, somewhat muffled voice came through the smooth wood.

"…them down and avenge the gods," Ella was saying, her voice fierce with emotion. Danjin froze, hand still extended to knock.

"That is not necessary, Ellareen." came a quiet, thoughtful male voice: Juran. From his tone, Danjin guessed the man was frowning.

"It is so, Juran!" This voice was full of righteous fury and grief—Rian, the fanatical worshipper of the recently-deceased gods. "The Wilds murdered our gods, and we as the White—the Gods' Chosen—must execute revenge! It is what the gods would have wanted!"

"The most important issue right now is to help the people recover from the war," Danjin had been expecting this voice: sharp, dictatorial and angry. It was the voice of Dyara, second oldest of the formerly immortal White.

"Dyara is right," Mairae's soft, gentle tone echoed. "The Circle would have wished for us to devote our time to the people."

There was an almost inaudible sigh. Juran spoke again. "I agree that it is very wrong of the Wilds to kill the gods, but it will be time-consuming and dangerous if we leave to seek them out for revenge now. Our people are confused and floundering; we must help them recover in case of another Pentadrian attack."

"After all this, then?" The voice was Rian's.

Juran's reply was slow in coming. "I don't know, Rian. The Wilds are more powerful than ever before with Auraya at their side, and we have just lost the advantage of god-given powers. We would not stand much of a chance against them."

"So what do we do?" Ella demanded.

"We wait," Mairae said firmly.

"We wait," Juran agreed, and Danjin backed away as he heard the scraping of chairs and approaching footsteps.

When Ella opened her door to let the other White out, Danjin made it appear as though he had just stepped out of the cage. Juran appeared tired, Dyara's face was a mask of blank emotion, Ella had a defiant gleam in her eye, Rian's face was red with anger and Mairae's eyes were sad. They all acknowledged him with slight nods.

Danjin greeted the White in what he hoped was a steady voice, and then looked at Ella. She bade the White a good night, and then beckoned to him.

As the door shut quietly behind them, Ella turned to Danjin and whispered, "You were there all the time, weren't you?"

Danjin blinked, caught off-guard. "Um—"

"I'm still going after them, no matter what Juran says." Ella spoke in quick, urgent tones. "Rian is angry too. We'll wait until the people are calm again, before Rian and I get out of Jarime. We'll finish the Wilds off, all of them. It's the only way to avenge our gods." Tears filled her eyes unexpectedly as she spoke of the gods and she turned away from him, rubbing at her eyes furiously.

"Juran will not be pleased at your defiance—" but Danjin was cut off again.

"I don't care about what Juran thinks anymore, Danjin." Ella sniffed, and then continued, "He might not care about the gods, but I do, and I'll show their lost souls how much I trust them."

"Ella, don't. You might be killed."

"Then so be it. I'll join the gods in their realm!" There was a maniacal gleam in her eyes now. She spoke with passion and anger. "Rian and I already planned it out last night before I called today's meeting. He's as angry as I am. He's agreed to leave as well, for the gods we both love. Even if we die in our attempt to kill the Wilds, at least we reminded them why they should fear us, even without the protection of the Circle."

Danjin shook his head. He remembered Juran's remark—just before the battle—about how he was Ella's voice of reason. "This is unreasonable, Ella, but if you truly want to go, I won't stop you." _I can't stop you anyway. _He was glad that his voice did not tremble.

"Will you follow me, Danjin? Will you carry out your duty as my adviser and follow me to the ends of Ithania, even if it leads to your death?"

There it was…the offer. He could take it or leave it. This was his chance, his decision.

Danjin's mind couldn't think straight. Silava would be worried and angry if he took Ella's offer. If he followed them to the Wilds' hideout, he would most likely be killed. And he would meet Auraya, a changed Auraya, no longer the woman he looked upon and loved as a daughter.

"I…I will need time to think. And to consult my wife."

Ella nodded. "Of course. I will not press this decision on you lightly, Danjin. We have a few months to prepare. Make sure you make your decision soon."

Danjin nodded stiffly, then headed for the door.

"Danjin,"

He stopped, but did not turn back.

"Know that Wilds lie, both in dreams and in reality."

He caught the underlying message quite clearly. _Don't trust Auraya's dream links. _"I will keep that in mind, Ella." And he left the room.

* * *

><p>Emerahl and Auraya stood facing Mirar across the clearing. The silence between them was tense with the worry of parting.<p>

"You will not get yourself into trouble, Mirar?" Emerahl asked. Her voice was slightly hoarse to complement her forty-year-old appearance.

Mirar grinned back, but it was a weak attempt. "Trouble finds me, not the other way around. You look after yourself too, Old Hag."

Emerahl shrugged. "I've been looking after myself for a hundred years without your help, Mirar. I will be alright."

The Dreamweaver nodded in agreement, before his eyes shifted to Auraya. The former White smiled back at him uncertainly, tugging at her tunic nervously.

"I guess this is goodbye for now, eh?" Mirar asked.

Auraya's smile widened. "For now. Take care, Mirar."

"You too," he replied, watching them both carefully. "You're sure you want to do this?"

"Positive," Auraya answered, eyes hardening with determination.

"It will be a risk, meeting the White," Emerahl agreed, "but they need to know the truth, or we'll still be hunted by the Circlian and Pentadrain priests, and that will hardly help us even with the gods' absence."

"I've got an easier job than the both of you then, convincing Imenja," Mirar remarked thoughtfully. "She seems a sensible kind of woman, and I'll enjoy traveling around Southern Ithania again. Since Nekaun is out of the way, I'd best make myself a welcomed Dreamweaver in the south or you might just bump into me in Si after I get booted out of Glymma."

"Just remember to link with the The Twins as much as possible," Emerahl warned. "They should reach the Red Caves in a month, but along the way they will be able to observe the reaction of Circlians and Pentadrians to their gods' deaths."

"The Gull has gone as well, hasn't he?" Auraya asked.

"Early this morning," Emerahl confirmed. "He's going to swim up to the Gulf of Lore and break out into open sea when he can."

"We will link every night?" Mirar asked, almost hesitant.

"If it's possible," Auraya replied.

"We have a year to make changes before meeting back at the Red Caves with The Twins," Emerahl added, repeating their discussion from last night. "A year is a long time to do it. As I've said, I'll separate with Auraya after we get out of Jarime safely, and I'll poke around for Gifted people interested in a school of sorcery and healing. This time, I'll control them well."

"Do you intend to get all the White together to talk it out? I doubt Rian would appreciate that; the northern Dreamweavers consider him something of a fanatic." Mirar said, his tone light but laced with concern.

"We'll probably try to catch Juran alone, or with Dyara." Auraya replied. "He will listen to us. Juran is a reasonable man, and he does not enjoy violence, despite what _you_ think, Mirar."

The Dreamweaver flinched at that, and scowled. "I can hardly help it, Auraya. How many people in Ithania have tried to kill me and thought they succeeded for over a hundred years?"

"Dyara might as well," Auraya continued, ignoring Mirar's statement, "and Mairae too, but Juran's judgment takes precedence over them both. Rian is likely to try and kill us on sight, and I don't know the new White, Ellareen." Auraya paused. "Juran may be the most powerful White, but without the Circle enhancing his powers, Jade—sorry, I meant, Emerahl—and I can defend ourselves if he decides to attack."

"It looks like you're all set, then." Mirar said, before he bade them farewell and turned, walking out of the clearing. He did not look back.

Emerahl's voice became businesslike. "So, Auraya, let's pack up and get ready for our visit to the White."

The youngest of all immortals chuckled. "Alright, Emerahl." She straightened. "Mischief!"

The veez scampered down from a branch and rushed across the clearing to his mistress in a flash of brown. Auraya laughed as Mischief leapt into her open arms and began to nuzzle into her. "Good Mischief," she praised.

"Scratch?"

Laughing, Auraya obliged him. The veez sighed in contentment before rolling onto his back in her arms and shutting his eyes. The former White never ceased to marvel at how amazingly trusting veez were.

"Auraya," Emerahl said suddenly, breaking the moment.

She looked up. "Yes, Emerahl?"

"I was wondering…you are going back to Si after all this, right?"

"Yes, of course. I couldn't bear to be away from the Siyee, and they will need my help to recover without the gods."

"Have you considered that they might reject you because you killed Huan?"

Auraya sobered, her laughing mood gone. "Yes. It is another risk I have to take. I must convince Speaker Sirri that it was Chaia who killed them all, not us immortals."

Emerahl nodded. "I hope she believes you. It will be difficult for all of us if you are to be kicked out of Si."

Auraya nodded, opening her pack. She placed Mischief inside and the veez curled up, still fast asleep. "Shall we link now?"

Emerahl looked up at the skies, judging the time of day. "Yes. I think they will be ready, and we should leave as soon as possible."

They both lay down and settled into the dream-linking state of mind. For several moments, quiet reigned. Then Emerahl sought for two familiar minds.

_: Surim? Tamun?_

_ : Good morning, Emerahl and Auraya. _The Twins responded immediately, in dual voices.

_: It is almost afternoon already. _Emerahl replied in her casually blunt way. Auraya greeted them in a quieter, more formal voice, before falling silent. She usually stayed quiet while they conversed, unfamiliar with The Twins. _The Gull and Mirar have both left._

_ : We have already linked with The Gull, and Mirar will have to wait for night._

_ : We are going to leave soon, _Emerahl added. _How will the journey go?_

_ : It should be smooth. _The reply was Tamun's. _Most of the people have retreated back to their lands, leaving roads quite empty. With luck, you will reach Jarime without any problems._

_ : Who might we meet on the road?_

_ : No one special, _this was Surim. Auraya recognized his presence. _The White are in their Tower. Their minds are no longer guarded. Ah, I almost forget—two of them want to seek revenge against you, even though Juran has forbidden it._

_ : Which two?_

_ : Rian, _Tamun replied promptly.

_ : The fanatic, _Auraya added, unable to stop herself. The immortals shared a quiet laugh.

_: And the new White, Ellareen, _Surim offered. _She is very devoted to her gods, especially Yranna._

Auraya's interest was sparked.

_: We will watch out for them. _Emerahl's assurance was as worrying as it was comforting. _We need only seek out Juran._

_ : We will keep watch as well. Stay safe, both of you._

The Twins broke the link. Auraya roused from the dream state, disorientated. Emerahl had risen already, and was adjusting the many pouches about her person.

Auraya picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder, shrugging to ease Mischief's growing weight on her back. In a few more years, he would be very heavy to carry around, but for now, it would do. She could always heal away the stiffness.

"Let's go," Auraya called.

Emerahl nodded, and together, they entered the new, godless era of Ithania.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

So, how's the first chapter?


	2. The Gods' Chosen

_**Chapter Two: The Gods' Chosen**_

_My sincere thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I hope you will continue to enjoy and support my work._

* * *

><p><em><em>It took almost a month of slow traveling for Auraya and Emerahl to reach Jarime. They could've reached Jarime much earlier if they had hurried, but neither Auraya nor Emerahl felt the need to rush.

After a week of observation, the Twins relayed that the White and the Voices had explained the situation to their followers as best as they could, but there was still uproar in the cities. Many felt the need to rebel, but both White and Voices had wisely chosen to keep the immortals' involvement quiet. According to the Twins, the only reason why Circlians and Pentadrians had not yet marched out to kill the slayers of their gods was that they did not know who to aim their anger at.

Tamun had cautioned them against taking any visible action, and Surim advised them to keep to the smaller villages and stay away from main roads during the day. It annoyed Emerahl that the pair of immortals did little more than lounge around during the day, but she acknowledged that Auraya was too recognizable for them to risk many hours of daytime travel.

Auraya herself, for that matter, was taking things into her own hands. She dyed her hair the same shade as Emerahl's, but several of the locks had streaks of brown to blend in with the darkness of Auraya's original hair color. She and Emerahl were pretending to be sisters as they traveled, but even with the dyed hair, Auraya was still recognizable. Her sharp features and large eyes were not easily missed, especially with priests and Dreamweavers in almost every town they entered. Ironically, Dreamweavers posed the most danger as memories of her had probably been exchanged among the cult members via dream links.

She had resorted to cutting her hair short and wearing it with her fringe swept to one side, which visibly changed her entire appearance. Auraya also wore a similar tunic to Emerahl, and the two traveled on the backs of stolen arem. Since her hair-cutting scheme, they had been able to travel at a much faster pace, and this lightened Emerahl's mood somewhat.

It was night when the two entered Jarime. Emerahl had been granted a rather reluctant entry by the priests at the gates, but Auraya had to fly into the city and search for Emerahl aerially. It was too much to hope for that no one would recognize Auraya in the heart of the recently-deceased gods' stronghold, even with a new hairstyle.

As Auraya shut the door of the room in the inn that Emerahl had rented for the night, she looked up at her fellow immortal and asked, "What now?"

Emerahl's expression was grim. "What are the chances that Juran will be overjoyed at us barging into his rooms at this time of night?"

Auraya chuckled and moved into the room, scanning it briefly. It was one of the cheaper ones: just two beds, a washroom and a table. "Very unlikely. But we cannot wait for day. It will be impossible to seek a private audience with Juran, and I can't fly into my rooms during the day without attracting a whole lot of unwanted attention."

"So we go now?" Emerahl raised an eyebrow, slightly skeptical. "I'd rather have a concrete plan."

Auraya paused. "Let's check with the Twins and listen to what they think are our chances of getting out of Jarime alive after meeting with Juran."

Emerahl nodded. "And after that, we take a bath. Immortal or not, I will not embark upon one of the most dangerous adventures of my long life with the filth of the road on me."

Auraya laughed quietly. "Sure."

They lay on their respective beds and sank into the dream trance easily. Auraya linked with Emerahl's mind as the older immortal called for the Twins and also Mirar, hoping to hear news from both sides.

_: Emerahl? _The voice was sleepy.

_: Good morning, Mirar. Did you have a fitful sleep?_

_: Your sarcasm was not necessary, _he retorted, fully awake now. Auraya caught a hint of Emerahl's amusement and Mirar's annoyance: undoubtedly, a private joke shared between them at Mirar's expense.

_: Mirar, Emerahl, Auraya. How are you? _The Twins' dual voices interrupted their conversation.

_: You first, Mirar._

_: Well, I'm actually doing quite well here. I'm almost at Glymma, but I was going to wait it out tonight and contact the Twins first before entering the city. What about you, Auraya?_

_: Emerahl and I have entered Jarime successfully. We were just debating how best to seek a private meeting with Juran. Any ideas?_

_: We have thought of a way for you to sneak into the Temple without raising suspicion, _the Twins said. _Listen well, for there is much risk in this plan of ours._

* * *

><p>It was three hours before dawn and Emerahl padded down the empty roads of Jarime, dressed in her clean tunic, muttering curses under her breath in a language long dead. The Twins' plan was ridiculous, to say the least; ridiculously simple and yet ridiculously risky. She looked up at the dark sky, trying to search out Auraya, but the young immortal could not be seen.<p>

_Ellareen rarely enters her rooms before dawn. _The Twins had said. _She stays up late in Rian's rooms, discussing with her advisor and__her fellow White how best to rid the world of us immortals. _

Emerahl stepped up to the Temple, eyeing the White Tower with an edge of trepidation. Her shoes made little noise as she entered the Temple of the Gods. Then she paused and watched a priest hurry towards her, curiosity in his eyes. He was a young priest, likely to believe her story. Emerahl raised a hand in greeting.

"Good priest!" she called, making the sign of the Circle. "The night is young indeed."

The priest stopped before her, wary now. "State your name, position and purpose."

"I am Emi, a servant of Danjin Spear's house. I come bearing a message for him from his wife Silava. It is a private message," she added as the priest opened his mouth, "and my mistress has instructed me to deliver it to him in person. I cannot disobey."

The priest's expression faded from wariness to thoughtfulness. "Danjin Spear is advisor to Ellareen of the White. My fellow priests have told me that he often frequents his mistress's rooms late at night. I believe your story. You may pass."

Emerahl breathed a sigh of relief. '_That was too easy,' _she thought as she flashed the priest a brilliant smile and he nodded before walking away.

The plan had been simple. Emerahl was to sneak into the Tower pretending to be a servant sent by Silava asking Danjin to return home. Auraya would sneak in via her old window-door in Ellareen's rooms, and they would meet as the cage ascended and knock on Juran's door. What would happen thereafter, the Twins refused to tell them, and Mirar could only offer his well-wishes as they broke the link and began to prepare for the confrontation.

Emerahl walked quickly through the halls of the Tower, remembering Auraya's directions. _Past the Altar, up the cage. _Emerahl found the cage and after several moments of inspection, began to work its mechanism. To her relief, it ascended smoothly, without the creaking of rust that she had feared.

Emerahl began counting. She passed Mairae's rooms silently, and then slowed the cage at Rian's, detecting the low murmur of voices within. It was too quiet for her to listen properly unless she left the cage, but Emerahl couldn't, and wouldn't. She could not destroy their plan on a whim. Instead, she turned her gaze upward and stopped the cage as she paused outside Ellareen's rooms.

No one came out, and she dared not call for Auraya. '_Wait for her to step out, and then ascend again,' _were Tamun's orders.

Emerahl found that her heart was beating quickly, and she was all too aware that the priest she had lied to would soon discover that the servant had not yet left the Temple. _Where are you, Auraya?_

It was several moments before the door opened, and Auraya slipped out quietly. Emerahl made an impatient gesture for the former White to get into the cage. Auraya hurried in, muttering an apology. "Sorry. Ellareen locked the window-door, Emerahl. I didn't want to blast it open, and it took awhile to twist it open with magic. Especially if you're hanging in mid-air while doing so."

"Doesn't matter," Emerahl replied as they passed Dyara's rooms. "You better get ready to wake Juran up."

Juran had only managed to fall asleep an hour ago. He had stayed up late talking with Dyara, and then he could not sleep, instead pacing his rooms until he tired of it and fell on his bed. The quiet knocking on his door was dismissed as a dream at first, but when it increased in sound and intensity, Juran sat up and stared, wondering who would call for him so late at night. Was it Dyara again?

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and opened the door, saying, "What is it, Dya - " and his eyes widened, voice trailing off.

Auraya cocked her head at him, her eyes dancing with amusement at the expression of shock and dumbfounded astonishment that was written all over his face. She was wearing her hair in a new style, and had dyed it red, which was why Juran had not recognized her at first glance. But he could always recognize her large, expressive eyes. Behind her he could see a woman of about forty with the same shade of vivid red hair, fidgeting.

It was several moments before Juran could find his voice again, and when he spoke, it was with the whisper of a person beyond all amazement.

"Auraya...? What...How...?"

She smiled at him. "Juran of the White. May we come in? I will give you an explanation soon enough."

Juran wordlessly stepped aside, recovering slowly from his state of shock. He let the two of them in, and then shut the door behind him. Cautiously, he reached out and felt for Dyara's mind, asking her to stay alert and wary, for there might be danger afoot, though she was to stay in her room until he ordered otherwise.

Like Second Voice Imenja, Juran had not lost his ability to read minds after the death of the gods, but he found that he could read neither Auraya nor the redheaded woman's minds. They were shielded from his sight. A chill crept up his spine as he realized that the redheaded woman was a Wild, and that he would stand no chance of defeating them if they provoked a fight. The gods could save him no longer.

He smoothed his face into wary calmness as he approached the pair of immortals, who had moved into his living quarters and were looking around idly. "Are you here to kill me?" he asked bluntly, drawing a shield about himself.

Auraya's eyes betrayed her surprise as she glanced at him, but he saw satisfaction at his fear in the redhead's eyes. What was going on?

"No, Juran. We are here to explain to you why we killed the gods, and to ask that you leave us immortals alone." Auraya told him.

Juran stiffened. "How do I know that you are not lying?"

Auraya just smiled, shaking her head slightly. "Why should I lie?"

"You are influenced by Mirar and his Wild friends." Juran began, noting the flash of anger in the redhead's eyes. "You have listened to and believed their lies. Perhaps you speak your mind, but your thoughts cannot be your own."

Auraya's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"What loyal follower would kill the gods they loved?" Juran asked bitterly.

A hint of anger entered Auraya's gaze. "Would it not be justified, if the gods I loved seek to kill me, and to manipulate the peoples of Ithiania?"

"You speak the lies of Wilds. You..." Juran paused, realizing something. "The gods sought to kill you?"

Auraya grimaced. "Huan did. Only Chaia opposed her decision."

Juran felt disbelief blank his mind for a moment, before suspicion returned. Why should Auraya tell him the truth, anyway? She hated the gods, like all Wilds. They had their revenge. Why couldn't they leave him and the White alone? Anger stirred in his mind.

"Just let me explain, Juran," Auraya said, her tone unexpectedly gentle. "You must understand this."

His answer was cold. "Twenty minutes, Auraya. No more, or I will call my fellow White to avenge our gods."

Emerahl watched Juran's changing expressions as Auraya tried to make him believe that the immortals meant the White no harm. There was disbelief, suspicion, then slowly, acceptance, but always his guard was up and wariness flashed in his eyes.

Emerahl sighed. Auraya had introduced her as 'a friend', and Juran had shot her a look, eyes widening, and said, "You are The Hag."

It had not been a question, but Emerahl sighed and replied, "I am many things, but The Hag is a title that I have put behind me long ago."

He had scowled. "It was you that Huan asked the priests to investigate."

Emerahl had flashed him a deceptively cheerful smile. "Your priests require much additional training, Juran."

He would have blasted her with magic, only, Emerahl knew that Juran knew her magic was superior to his own, so Juran reined in his anger and turned to Auraya. "What is it you wish to say to me?"

Auraya's eyes were steady when they met Juran's. "Leave the immortals alone. Don't send anyone after us, including the two downstairs who are plotting it even as we speak."

Juran's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he asked, "Ella and Rian? Why would they? I forbade it."

Emerahl chuckled dryly. "Your White are not as obedient as you would believe, Juran."

Denial rose in his eyes, but Juran refrained from making a cutting retort. Why should he argue his case with Wilds? But the stirrings of uncertainty were beginning to form in the back of his mind. He would have denied his own suspicions, only Auraya was talking of things that he could not accuse her of lying about; he knew that there was a shred of truth in them. He of all the White had seen some of the evils committed by the old gods. He was born almost at the end of the War of the Gods, when confusion and strife struggled with each other, but he had seen people - terrible, twisted people - who were living proof of the evils performed on them by the disappearing gods.

"...Juran?"

He realized that his thoughts had drifted away. Fighting down a desire to flush, he replied, "Auraya, is there any way that you can offer me unquestionable truth of your claims? I find your tale hard to believe."

He watched Auraya and Emerahl exchange a wary glance, before Emerahl stepped away and dipped her head ever so slightly. Auraya turned back to Juran.

"There is, but you won't like it. It was the way Mirar showed me the truth."

Juran had only a split second to comprehend what Auraya was talking about before a mind of immense power invaded his own, sweeping aside his defenses as though they were windblown leaves.

_: This is what I used to be._

Juran saw Auraya as a child, listening earnestly to the priest of her village. He saw her practice and learn at the hands of Dreamweaver Leiard, when she did not know his true identity.

The scene shifted. It was now of Auraya as a priestess, and then a high priestess. The memory shifted to become the one where Auraya was to become a White. The memory was tinted with gold and silver, and it was an ecstatic feeling that poured from every corner of her mind as she accepted this position for the gods. The gods she loved.

_: This is when I began to doubt._

The memory suddenly turned from the delight and joy of the Choosing Ceremony to a darker, much more horrifying scene, and the change was so abrupt that Juran nearly jerked out of it, but Auraya's mind was stronger and caught at his consciousness, holding him in an iron grip. He watched as Auraya showed him her dreams of the war, her nightmares, the worry and betrayal she felt for Leiard, Chaia's decision to take her as a lover, the whispers she heard of the gods' past misdeeds. Each slowly chipping away at her initial belief in her gods, the gods she used to love.

But she had held on, trying to make the best of the situation as she struggled to set up the hospice, and to fight the Hearteater suffered by the Siyee that she loved so much. Pity and a grudging admiration rose in Juran's heart. Auraya had been trying to stay true to the gods after all

_: This is how I started to suspect more._

Juran's mental eye saw Auraya meeting Leiard while fighting the Siyee disease, saw how she had discovered his mind-shielding, saw how he taught her to heal. Saw her beginning to love Leiard again, because of his goodwill towards the Siyee and his willingness to remain friends with her. Then the nostalgia changed to fear and surprise and anger, and Juran saw Auraya and Mirar fight, before Mirar showed her the truth.

Auraya replayed for Juran everything she had gleaned from Mirar's memories, save the method he used to save himself from dying. That must be Mirar's own secret, the testament to his superior skill in healing. Juran saw memories pulled up from a later time, when Emerahl was teaching Auraya to hide her mind, of stories the Wild told the former White. Stories of the gods' terrible secrets.

_: This is when I lost hope._

Auraya played for Juran the memory of her decision after she ordered Mirar to flee; the decision that she was unworthy of her position, the tears and the tiredness and the stress that pressed that choice. And later, when she found out during her training with Emerahl that Huan wanted her dead. A cold chill crept down Juran's spine as he realized that one of the gods he worshipped was actively seeking the death of a former colleague.

_: This is when I knew the gods were unworthy of their position in our hearts and minds and souls._

Auraya revealed the discovery made by Emerahl, finding out about the gods' most precious secrets; secrets and lies that they had hidden away from mortals ages and ages past. Juran's sense of fairness came to him, and anger rose, even as a part of his mind was screaming that Auraya was lying. _The gods lied to all mortals!_

_: This is what I decided to do._

Juran forced down his anger and watched as Auraya showed him how the other immortals had sought her help to defeat the gods. How she had eavesdropped and found out about the gods' 'game' and her rage at them. She had lost what love she had for Chaia then, thinking it was his betrayal. She had trapped the gods, as was the immortals' intention. Juran's eyes widened as he saw Chaia kill himself, and the other four gods.

_: I am not lying, Juran._

_: No, I see that you speak the truth. I will need to think this over, but what would you have me do now?_

_: Stay away from the immortals. Do not let anyone come after us, and do not speak of us to any other. We do not like to kill, but if it is for our own survival, we shall not hesitate. Your priests will not be spared._

_: I understand. _

With that, Auraya removed herself from Juran's mind. He swayed on his feet unsteadily, before regaining his balance.

Emerahl was watching the pair of them with wary green eyes, and he noted that in the legends he had heard, the Hag was supposed to be an old woman. But Juran was too overwhelmed by Auraya's revelation to puzzle that out now. He looked on as the former White nodded to Emerahl, and then they turned to him expectantly.

"Do we have an accord, Juran?"

Despite himself, Juran's lip curled upward slightly at the mention of the long-dead phrase. "Yes, we do."

"Good." Auraya smiled, but it was strained.

"Are you going to leave?" Juran asked.

Auraya nodded. "As soon as possible. You will not tell anyone of what happened tonight."

"Not even Dyara?"

Auraya and Emerahl exchanged a quick glance. "Only if it is unavoidable," the older immortal answered.

Juran inclined his head. "I see. Should I escort you out?"

"No," Emerahl snapped. "We will leave immediately." _I want to get as far away from Jarime as I can, _she added silently.

Auraya moved towards the door, then paused and looked over her shoulder at Juran. "I hope you will use the information wisely, Juran of the White."

And with that, she swept out of his rooms. Emerahl gave the White leader a suspicious, half-angry look, before striding out of the room as well.

Juran just stood still, watching the door shut softly behind them. In his heart, emotions were warring with each other. He closed his eyes and inhaled. _What am I going to do now?_

* * *

><p>End of Chapter Two: The Gods' Chosen.<p>

_Author's Note:_

_Apologies for the long delay in updating! I am delighted at the response for the first chapter - admittedly, I had not expected any reviews at all - and I am gladdened to hear your enthusiasm and your interest in my story. Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews make my day, but even if you don't drop a comment, I am honored and happy that you read this in the first place._

_Until the next update,  
><em>

_Qi Okami  
><em>


	3. The Dreamweaver's Voice

_**Chapter Three: The Dreamweaver's Voice**_

* * *

><p>"Companion Reivan, Second Voice Imenja requests your presence in the council room."<p>

"Thank you. I will be there shortly."

Reivan nodded at the servant-boy, and then started to gather the papers strewn all over her desk. It had been months since the army had returned to Southern Ithania, tired and bewildered; and still most of the people were lingering in a state of confusion. Rumors had flown across the land like a summer fever, and wild theories had arisen, but the Voices had yet to announce anything definite to their people.

These days, Reivan would be lucky to speak with Imenja in private once a day. The Voices frequently had hushed meetings amongst themselves behind closed doors and none of them had confided in their Companions thus far. Reivan and the other Companions had been given smaller duties to complete, though similar to those she had before the war—Reivan still arranged Imenja's daily schedule - but she was now required to leave a slot empty for the Voices' private discussions; she still gave her opinion and judgment on issues Imenja highlighted to her; she still completed most of the tiring administrative work due her station, but life was much less interesting with Imenja's absence.

Reivan realized that she missed the older woman. Imenja had been her only friend in the Sanctuary. Her heels clacked loudly as she strode towards the Voices' private meeting room. Questions upon questions whirled in her mind, fueled by her Thinker's curiosity.

Reivan stepped into the council room, mouth opening to form a greeting, and then she stiffened. All four Voices were seated, and their Companions stood quietly next to them. Reivan hastened to take her place at Imenja's side.

'_This feels…momentous,' _Reivan thought. There was something in the way the Voices were holding themselves that seemed off. '_It is as if they are frightened—but of what?'_

"My fellow Voices and Companions," Imenja spoke, her tone grave. "Thank you for your swift response to my call. There is a rather urgent matter to be dealt with."

The Second Voice leaned forward, deadly serious. "Before we begin, I must apologize on behalf of all the Voices to you all, Companions, for I know that we have been trying your patience very much of late. Still, once you hear what I have to say, I doubt you'd object."

All the Companions shook their heads, murmuring that it had been nothing and it was still an honor to serve their Voices in any way possible.

Imenja nodded, and then seemed to steel herself.

"Mirar paid me a visit last night."

"What?" Shar exclaimed, and Reivan realized that Imenja had yet to tell anyone—not even her fellow Voices—of her unexpected visitor.

"How did he bypass our security, our Servants?" Vervel snarled.

"He's a Wild," Genza retorted. She seemed to have taken this news quite calmly. "I bet he can slip through all our security without breaking a sweat."

The Companions were mostly silent, still absorbing the information. The Voices continued to argue until Imenja raised her hands and asked for silence.

"I will explain all to you," she said, "and there is no cause for worry. Mirar did not come with the intent of murder, kidnap or any kind of harm. He merely wished to explain how our current…_situation _came about, and to ask—no, to request—that we leave the Wilds and the Dreamweavers alone."

"He wishes us to let the murderers of our gods go free?" Vervel snarled again. "The bastard!"

"Peace, fifth Voice," Imenja said, "Let me tell you what Mirar has to say."

"How do we know that he tells the truth?" Genza asked. "How can we believe the lies of Wilds?"

Imenja's eyes hardened. "There is no way to offer you proof, for though I have retained my mind-reading Gift, Mirar's mind is shielded. We can only hope it is the truth, for I do not believe that he would risk life and limb to enter the Sanctuary merely to spin a fanciful yarn."

"He could," Takun, Shar's Companion, muttered under his breath, "He's been of two minds for the past hundred years. He could have gone mad."

"If he did, he concealed his madness very well last night," Imenja said. Her voice grew businesslike. "Now, if you all are done squabbling, I will tell you Mirar's words—"

For the next half an hour, Reivan sat in stunned disbelief as Imenja proceeded to tell Mirar's tale. She told of how she had woken to see Mirar lounging against her door, of how completely unperturbed he was by the defensive shield she drew up at the sight of him, or the pulse of energy that she gathered in the palm of her hand. He had made no threats, but very quietly asked her to remain silent. Fearing for her life, Imenja had acquiesced. And then he had found a chair, sat down and started to tell her—in a deceptively casual voice—of the gods' treachery.

"I objected," Imenja said, remembering. "But he overrode me each time, and always there was more 'proof' to be shown. I could not believe it of our gods."

Mirar had told Imenja of Emerahl's quest for the Scroll of the Gods, of the secrets Sorli's priest had engraved on the diamond, and of Auraya's terrible discovery that the gods merely played mortals as a game—though the Dreamweaver had tactfully avoided mentioning names, merely referring to Emerahl and Auraya as 'friends'. He had closed his speech with an ominous warning—if the Voices sent Servants after the Wilds, they will not be shown mercy.

"That was a direct threat, Second Voice," Reivan found herself saying. "Surely, if we catch a Wild alone, several of our strongest Servants can overpower him or her."

Imenja and the other Voices shared a glance. Genza spoke up, addressing Reivan, but her remark was directed at everyone in the council room. "I have no reason to doubt that Mirar's threat is anything but idle. We do not know the true strength of these Wilds—we do not even know all their identities! We don't have a hope of beating them. What will it do, anyway? Killing these Wilds won't bring the gods back. We only lose our best Servants trying." she concluded bitterly.

"But it will bring justice," Vervel rumbled. Shar nodded in agreement.

"At what cost?" Imenja interjected.

Genza inclined her head, in favor with Imenja. "Our people need us."

"So we allow the White to run off hunting Wilds, while we sit here watching? I will not suffer this!" Shar exclaimed.

Imenja's brows came together. "I forgot to mention—Mirar says that the White have already been contacted, and given the same information as us. What they made of it, Mirar refused to say, but I do not think that they will ignore the Wilds' warning so easily."

"Why so?" Genza asked.

Imenja's lips curled into the smallest of smiles. "Juran of the White will not so easily forget that the enemy he thought he killed came back to haunt him after a hundred years."

The other Voices echoed their assent, and after another half an hour debating the best course of action, they agreed that they should follow Mirar's orders—for now.

"If any new developments arise, we will rethink our plans. That will be all. Thank you," Imenja declared her dismissal clear. Slowly, everyone filed out of the council room, leaving Imenja and Reivan alone.

Imenja seemed content to sit back in her chair and meditate in silence, but Reivan shifted uncomfortably, and asked, "Second Voice, when will we be electing a new First Voice?"

Imenja turned to look at Reivan. Her answer came slowly, "I doubt we will find a candidate strong enough to replace Nekaun. We Voices are considering breaking with tradition and moving up the ranks—that is to say, I will take up the position of First Voice; Shar will become Second Voice, and so on. It will be easier to find a Servant that can fit the position of Fifth Voice than the first."

"When will that happen?"

"_If _it will ever happen, that is." Imenja chuckled, "The idea is still relatively new, and we have yet to work out the finer details. I am sorry that you have been kept away, Reivan, but some discussions are best kept quiet."

Reivan sensed that it was as close to the truth as Imenja could afford. "I understand. But what I don't get is why you are all agreeing to submit to Mirar's threat. There can't be that many Wilds and they can't all be that strong. If we catch them off-guard, we can still overwhelm them."

Imenja sighed. "I will not risk the wrath of Mirar and his Wild friends, Reivan. You cannot know—you cannot sense his power—but Mirar and Auraya's Gifts are extraordinary. I daresay that Wilds should all be powerful; they cannot be immortal otherwise. As Genza said, hunting the Wilds will not bring the gods back."

"But we must do something."

Imenja's lips curled into a smile. "We will. The Voices are intent on helping our people recover from the recent warring, and that is as good a cause as any. For now, let us leave the Wilds be."

Reivan sighed—she knew defeat when she saw it. "Very well, Second Voice."

"Good. Now tell me, what do I have on my schedule today?"

* * *

><p>Auraya felt trepidation rise in her as she neared her destination. The greenery underneath her rushed by as she flew with tremendous speed. The mountains of Si loomed in the distance. It would be another couple of hours before she reached the Siyee's homeland, but she was close.<p>

Auraya had parted ways with Emerahl two days ago, and now she greatly missed the older woman's presence. Emerahl was often snappy and irritable, but she was one of Auraya's only allies in the entirety of the land.

The former White thought back to Juran's reaction at the news of the betrayal of his beloved gods. '_He took it much better than I expected he would,' _she mused. She had thought that Juran would question them endlessly, would attempt to fight back, or would call for his fellow White to take the pair of Wilds down. She had prepared for every eventuality save his acceptance. It threw her off balance. '_Which might have been his intention_.'

Emerahl had indicated likewise, but Auraya _knew_ Juran, had worked with him personally, and he was not that kind of man. Auraya frowned as she contemplated it further. '_It does seem odd, now that I think about it. Juran does not enjoy violence, but neither does he give so easily. Surely my memories did not affect him so much?'_

Auraya saw the Open loom up in front of her, and decided to push all thoughts of Juran aside. He was no longer her worry. Now, she faced the greater challenge of convincing the Siyee of her good intentions.

She flew on.

* * *

><p>Dyara paced the Altar as Juran watched her, his face set into what he hoped was his usual calm expression. He had not been sleeping well since Auraya and the Hag's midnight visit, and he knew that his fellow White had noticed the shadows under his eyes and the stiffness with which he addressed them.<p>

Dyara appeared agitated. Mairae, Rian and Ellareen had not been invited to this council—it was simply a few issues Dyara wanted to highlight to him, and nothing that required the presence of the other three White. The Altar's closed walls ensured their privacy.

The woman whipped about to face him, her circ flaring. "What has happened, Juran?" she demanded.

Juran eyed Dyara, pretending to appear puzzled. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know what!" Dyara's eyes flashed; Juran fancied that he saw storms brewing in their grey depths. "You contacted me six nights ago to tell me to be on my guard, and never said anything afterwards. Do you know how long I waited and worried? And do not think that your behavior this past week has gone unnoticed! You have been forgetting small issues, avoiding the rest of the White, spending most of the day pacing in your room. What has happened?" Her voice gentled. "Are you ill, Juran? If so, you have no need to hide it. I know of priests that can examine and treat you discreetly, and you know that the rest of us can manage Northern Ithania's affairs just fine for a while. We can—"

"No, Dyara, I am not ill." Juran interrupted wearily. "I just had a lot on my mind of late, what with the uproar across all the lands and our worry about the Wilds." It was too easy to fake haggardness.

The woman peered at him. She seemed to be weighing his words for a few moments. "Are you certain? Do not overwork yourself, Juran. Ithania has need of you yet."

Juran felt his heart warm. "I thank you for your concern, Dyara. However, I assure you that I am quite well. You must look after yourself as well."

Dyara smiled slightly then, humor in her eyes. She glanced about, and then shrugged. "That was all I wanted to speak with you about," she admitted awkwardly, "I have a missive or two from Dunway as well, but they are not of great importance."

Juran returned the smile. "Then I will see you later, Dyara. Good day to you."

Dyara nodded, and the walls of the Altar folded down. The woman descended the steps and begun to make her way towards the cage. She paused halfway, and then looked back at Juran. "I'm not letting this go so easily, Juran. You better have an answer for me soon." And then she walked off, her stride confident and unfaltering.

Juran watched her go, his heart warm. _Someday, _he decided, _I will tell her the truth._

* * *

><p>End of Chapter Three: The Dreamweaver's Voice.<p>

_Author's Note:_

_I am so very sorry for the terrible delay in updating, but real life is very stressful right now and doesn't look like letting up anytime soon, so I'm afraid updates will come only once every few months. *goes to hide in a corner*  
><em>

_Reviews make my day always, so send them in and let me know what you thought of this chapter :)  
><em>

_Until the next (hopefully soon) update,  
><em>

_Qi Okami_


End file.
